


She Just Can't Help It Anymore.

by fandomgirl19



Category: Fresh Meat (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29415600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomgirl19/pseuds/fandomgirl19
Summary: It's not because she fancies him.It's not.That's what tells herself, at least. In the early mornings before he wakes up, staring up at him, willing herself to get up and go back to her own room, to resolve not to do it again.But she can't.
Relationships: Josie Jones/J.P. Pembersley
Kudos: 2





	She Just Can't Help It Anymore.

It's not because she fancies him. 

It's not. 

That's what tells herself, at least. In the early mornings before he wakes up, staring up at him, willing herself to get up and go back to her own room, to resolve not to do it again. 

But she can't. 

She can't because she likes him so much it's impossible to ignore, impossible to ignore the feeling of need to be with him, to be near him, to be entangled in him. 

And it feels so _weird_ , because it's JP, the same JP who dressed up as Hitler for a party and tried to hide that he once wanked off his mate. The same JP who insisted making the upstairs room into a massive bong, the same JP who knows exactly how to make her feel like no one else ever could and... _oh, for God's sake...!_

So getting him to shut up is all she can manage, because if he doesn't shut up then she won't shut up and if she doesn't shut up she's scared everything will come tumbling out and she'll ruin it, ruin him, ruin the image because she knows that she just can't let on how much she loves it, loves him. 

So that's why she smooths the plaster over his mouth, because if he's silent so are her thoughts, so are the roaring voices that beg her just to tell him. And she can't tell him, because his ego is already big enough. She can't just feed it and feed it, because he and his ego already take up half the bed. But she knows for a fact that this is a lie, because these days he is thoughtful and gentle, and doesn't boast about himself, at least not when they're alone. 

She hates herself for it, so much she even misses the old JP. 

The old JP who would boast shamelessly about his sexual conquests, who would ridicule and mock the others because he could afford the fanciest alcohol that Tesco had to offer, who she could have sex with and have no strings attached. 

But at the same time, she likes the new JP. 

The new JP who is the only person to turn up to watch a show with her. As if he was the only one who cared enough, and it shouldn't matter but it does, and it matters more than she wants to admit. She likes how he slings an arm over the back of the sofa, and hates how she is aware that she's edging closer to him, pressing her thigh against his, leaning her head on his shoulder and relaxing into his side. She hates how he lets her. 

She can't stand that he offers her a drink, looking so eager to get her something. She can't stand that when she asks for a cider, a smile breaks out onto his face and he jumps up immediately, practically running to the kitchen. She hates that he gets a drink for her before getting one for him, hates herself for laughing at his antics as he pretends to be unable to open his own bottle. 

It's a rehearsed bit of his that she's seen hundreds of times over the years they've spent living together but it feels different now. She doesn't know why, she only knows that she likes it, so much she thinks that she might burst. 

So when the show finishes and neither of them make any attempt to move, she knows it feels different, so different that she swings her leg over his lap and kisses him, slurring her words because she needs to give him the impression that she's a lot more wasted than she actually is. Because if the sex isn't sober, what the fuck is it? But she can't think about that, not now, because she's already dragging him upstairs, already pressing a finger against his lips as they continue past the other rooms, because she's immediately replacing her finger with her lips as soon as they get halfway up the second staircase. 

The sex is different too, although she lies through her teeth that it isn't. She knows she isn't mortal drunk, and she's pretty sure JP isn't, so she tries to convince herself that it's different because she can't feel alcohol sloshing around in her stomach like normal. She refuses to believe it's because she is fully aware of what she's doing. 

She wishes he was drunk, because unlike before, he doesn't immediately fall asleep afterwards like he used to. The new and improved JP really is different. She can't lie regretfully in his arms, in her own mortification, because he gently presses kisses to her shoulder and pulls her against him, whispering into her hair and she hates herself because she likes it. 

She hates herself because she likes it as much as she likes the sex. 

She hates herself because it's the same the next time. And the next time. And the next three times. And the time after that. 

She hates herself because she isn't strong enough to resist it, isn't strong enough to resist pulling him back to her when he makes to get out of bed, can't resist kissing him again and again. Can't resist him. 

She never, ever pulled Dave back into bed. Nor Kingsley. In fact, she always wanted them to get out of the bed, to finally leave her in peace so she could stop pretending she enjoyed it. 

She never has to pretend with JP. 

It's even worse, because he cares so much. It's even worse when he asks her if he can get her anything, anything at all, he'll even run down to the shop if they haven't got it in. If she wants him to make her breakfast, start the shower for her, grab her some clean things from her room. 

She answers honestly, that all she wants is a glass of water, that she's fine with her usual bowl of cereal, that she would rather have a few more minutes in bed first, that she would rather stay in his shirt and boxers instead of her own pyjamas. 

And he obliges, leaving her with a kiss on the forehead and a promise to be quick, leaving her to snuggle down underneath the covers that smell so much like him, of strong orangey aftershave that Tomothy's wife bought him for his last birthday, of some of the best nights of her life. She hates herself because she rolls over onto his side of the bed, just so she can feel closer to him. 

She remembers how painful it was asking Kingsley for anything, even for a cup of tea. He would whine and complain, often getting distracted by something and occasionally forgetting completely. She remembers how it felt like a trade, as if she had to repay him for the slightest thing, even though he often didn't achieve what she had asked. 

JP didn't ever sigh, or complain, or forget. She never had to ask, because he seemed to make a point of offering, make a point of spoiling her and she hates that she allows herself to revel in his attention. She hates how earnestly he looks when he brings her a glass of water with ice, only two cubes because he knows that any more make it too cold for her. He makes it clear that there is absolutely no spunk in the ice in her drink, cheekily remarking that she has already had enough of his spunk in her mouth for one day. She punches him for this, but when he grabs her fists and presses his mouth to hers she can't help but wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down on top of her. 

She simply cannot understand why he is suddenly so thoughtful, so understanding, so infuriatingly considerate of anything she wants. JP and thoughtful have never been said in the same sentence, the same paragraph, not even in the same conversation. But now it's all he is, so mind-blowingly thoughtful. And she hates herself, because she is falling for it, for him. 

He talks to her like he cares. Like he genuinely wants to hear her answer. He listens and he remembers, remembers details that she tries to pretend aren't important, and she can't get over it because no one ever remembers anything she tells them, even if it is important. But he remembers every little thing. She'd hate it if she didn't love it. 

She tries her best to cut him off, to go cold turkey, but she can't. Not even days after making the resolve, she's making her way up the stairs, crawling over to straddle him, prying his phone out of his hands and begging for him to make her feel like he does. She hates herself for being so weak, for having so little self-restraint but in the moment when he peels away her shirt she doesn't care, doesn't even bother that she is so irresistibly drawn to him. 

They swap stories afterwards. She finds it easier when she isn't looking at him, but as he tells her how unbearably lonely his entire childhood was she can't help but stare up at him, running her hand through his hair and tightening her arm around him. 

She struggles when he tells her that he doesn't cry anymore, almost ever. He had to learn, because his dad was a big believer that boys don't cry, especially boys of the Pembersley bloodline. So he tried his best not to cry when he listened to the incessant arguing, biting his hand until he drew blood, which only incited more tears. So he turned to biting the banister, but the smack across the head when his dad found out caused him to cry much more the arguing ever did. She hates his dad, more than she hates herself for crying at his story. She hates how tenderly he wipes away her tears with his thumb, laughing at her a little. How he kisses her forehead and tells her not to cry, because it almost makes him want to cry. She feels she has to kiss him this time, because she feels so much affection for him that she has to show it somehow. 

She learns the nicer things about him too. 

How his favourite colour is dark blue, or how his favourite food is a bacon sandwich, or how he much prefers KFC to McDonalds, but he never got to go when he was younger because his mum thought they weren't nutritious enough, and when he and Tomothy used to sneak out they always had to go to McDonalds, because if they didn't go to McDonalds then Tomothy would tell. She hates his brother, hates his parents, hates them all because of how much shit they put him through, and then she hates herself because of all the shit she puts him through. 

But what splits her down the middle is the way he looks at her. Like she means something to him, like she deserves it. She can't bring herself to look back, because then she would be making it clear how she felt, making it so unmistakable how she absolutely thinks the world of him. 

She doesn't realise how strongly she feels about him until the night he goes out with those arsehole friends of his. 

It's very early in the morning, and she can hear him blundering about outside her bedroom in the darkness. She bites her lip, worried, when he stumbles into her bedroom, and she hates it when she sees his face light up at the sight of her. Then again, he is mortal drunk, so maybe it doesn't mean anything at all. He's _really_ pissed, she realises as he struggles to stay standing. 

"I'm not going to fuck you, JP." She objects half-heartedly. She knows for a fact that if he was sober enough, this would be a complete and utter lie. But he doesn't even seem functional as he struggles to pull his shirt over his head. He manages and moves onto his belt buckle, and she smiles a little as he fumbles with something he is usually so adept at. 

"You're so pretty, baby." He slurs his words, kicking off his trousers and crawling under the duvet with her. 

She grins as he settles next to her, throwing his arm round her and resting his head against her stomach. Before she can say anything to him, she realises he's fallen asleep, practically dead to the world. She strokes his cheek with her thumb almost unconsciously, staring down at him because his face is so sweet. Until she realises that he had no intention of sleeping with her. He just wanted to be near her, he was beyond drunk and falling asleep with her was all he ever wanted in the first place. She can't help wondering why she cries at this, but she wipes her tears and shuffles down the bed until she is lying face to face with him, her forehead pressed to his. She kisses him softly, just because she really wants to. 

"I think I might love you." She whispers against his lips, and she clenches her fists as she realises that she means it. She can't even bring herself to hate herself this time, because she's been waiting to say it for so long. 

When she wakes up in the morning he's still there, arms thrown around her and pulling her closer to him. She hates herself, because she doesn't want to move. She wants to stay, safe in his arms, face buried in his neck. She can't help herself, she just can't tear herself away from him. 

After that, she tried a lot harder to stop. 

Jobbo was born after that. 

Jobbo had self restraint, she was strong enough to stop herself. 

If Jobbo says no, no is the final answer and that's that. 

But it doesn't stop her from waiting until he gets home and dragging him to his room, because although her's is closer his is more private, and if the others knew about it that's when she'd have to face up to the fact that it wasn't just a mortal shag anymore and _...no, no, no, it's JP, you don't like him..._! 

It doesn't stop her enjoying the look he gives her as she settles in his lap. 

"Are you still Jobbo, then? Or are you my Josie now?" He asks tentatively, and she tries very hard to ignore the twitching in her stomach at the thought of being 'his Josie'. She tries to pretend he didn't say it by pressing her lips to his, but she can't pretend, not to him. 

"Your Josie now." She whispers against his lips, and the smile on his face is enough for her. 

It doesn't stop her from swiping a shirt from his washing, doesn't stop her from holding it to her chest every night, doesn't stop her from sneaking up there to swap it out whenever it starts to smell like her and not him. 

It doesn't stop her from taking him a cup of tea in the mornings, doesn't stop her climbing into the bed next to him when she delivers it. Doesn't stop him forgetting completely about the tea and focusing completely on her. It definitely doesn't stop her from letting him. 

It doesn't stop her sticking another plaster over his mouth, not because he's whiny and annoying and all the things she told him to let her silence him. No, because she knows she is kissing him too much, knows that after five minutes she will peel it off and stick it on the headboard because she can't tear herself away from him for enough time to put his bindings in the bin. She knows that she's kissing him too much for it to be a friends-with-benefits sort of thing, kissing him far too much for it just to be casual sex. 

Because she can't stop it anymore. Nothing can. She isn't drunk, isn't sad, nor vulnerable, not even lonely, and she hasn't been for a long time. She's here because she wants to be, here because she can't resist him any longer. She's here because there is nothing she would rather do, nothing she would rather do less than stop him kissing along her collarbone. 

She's here because she needs him. 

It hits her like a tonne of bricks. Hits her like a tonne of bricks as she stops him, feeling guilty at his questioning expression. She throws her arms around his neck and buries her head in him, and when she cries he hugs her harder and rubs her back, pressing kisses into her hair and when she can't think of an answer to her tears he doesn't blame her. He just shrugs and tenderly wipes her cheeks. 

She hates him for it. 

_oh, stop lying to yourself._

She loves him for it. She loves him so much. 

She doesn't want to end it. She needs him, needs him with her to feel like she can breathe and it hurts. 

She won't tell him, at least not for a while. 

But she won't end it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in the fandom so I hope it's okay!
> 
> I wish we had more of Josie and JP, they were such a cute couple and I really wanted to see more of their relationship. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


End file.
